Cult

1.

Black shells
and trepidations

ribs of vision
blue…dehydrated

I walk from your limbs
to limbs
…downhill eyes
to those fat lips

Row me
till water is high
and I drown

like a dead submarine…

2.

I have dug your
navel
bits of jewels and
tidy dreams

a brisk temper
enlightening my castle…

ashes of prayer
like salted petals
crisp red in

a big brown chest

termites nibbling
my soft
sad eyes…


3.

The naked pine
sharp over
some bleeding soil

tongue sweeping
bristles on your face

milk raining down
blind canvases

and across
The event of church


down the pelvic
a tomb-
a bliss of orchid and
poisoned raisins

4

An evening
you jerked the caravan

against violet petals

a friction
that crippled
music

and noise
unheard

those foul-birds
pecking at
seeds of sin

5

tongues melting
in the oven

cubes of saliva
burning a
cult
the nestles
below

an organic
smell
feasted by yeast
trained
by libido
and lullabies.